Episode 13

My name is Eliza Prescott, 25 years old, born in Los Angeles, English, educated in an orphanage and public schools.

I took some technical courses in administration, so I could open my own business and bring my sister to live with me.

I am 1.66 meters tall, with medium brown hair, brown eyes, fair skin, slim with noticeable curves. I have a scar on my right leg, from a fire incident, when a piece of wood grazed it, burning it. Over the years, it became imperceptible to the eyes.

I am fluent in several languages, as many tourists visit my pub.

I am a strong, persistent, calm, responsible, and loving woman. I am someone who gets attached very easily.

My sister and I grew up in an orphanage after our parents' death. I vaguely remember my childhood and what happened before their death.

I remember my mother taking us out in the middle of the night from our old address and moving to a new home. In the new address, there was a warehouse owned by a friend of hers.

The next night, she put us to sleep and went to the kitchen.

I couldn't sleep and went after her, but the living room door was open. I went in search of her and found her in the warehouse. From the top of the stairs, I saw her arguing with a man, who slapped her in the face.

The two started a physical fight, her friend arrived and hit him with a blow, telling her to take us away from here. She came towards me, picked me up, and we entered the house.

Quickly grabbing a backpack, she put some things in it, picked up Diana and me in her arms, and went downstairs with us. At that moment, the warehouse was on fire, with her friend unconscious on the ground.

She put me down and asked me to take Diana and wait for her outside. Even with difficulty, I did as she said, only to see her falling unconscious on the ground, after receiving a blow to the head from the evil man.

A piece of wood fell, hitting my leg, crying I left with Diana, who by then was also crying a lot.

Our mother had already instructed me on where to go if we needed help at any time. I went to the neighbor's house, she welcomed us. With the news of our mother's death, we went to live in an orphanage. They told us that our father also died in the fire.

Which was very confusing because I didn't see him there, but I was a child, my mind was confused, scared, and sad.

Luckily, the director was always very kind and didn't allow anyone to adopt Diana unless they adopted me.

I thank the heavens that we grew up together, supporting each other.

When I turned eighteen, I could no longer stay at the orphanage.

The director kept the backpack we had that night. Inside it was the deed to the house we lived in and a box of jewelry.

Leaving my sister behind was not easy, but I needed to do something, to have an income, to get custody of her, and never to be apart again.

When I arrived at the place we lived, there were still traces of the fire, flashes of that night kept coming to my mind.

I lived in a boarding house for a while, pawned the jewelry that belonged to my mother and got a large sum of money. I kept only two necklaces, which have great sentimental value, they have a delicate pendant with the initials of our parents J&C.

With the money, I had the house renovated. I took some courses to open my own business and had the idea of opening a pub on the ground floor. Upstairs would be our home, and downstairs the pub.

It wasn't easy at first, but things improved over time, one thing led to another, and soon the nights became lively. I hired a cook, two waiters, a bartender, and a band responsible for live music. It was when I met one of the vocalists, Peter.

It was not my intention to fall in love, but it happened. I was always clear with him, telling him that my priority was Diana, and he never objected.

Things improved, and soon I got custody of my little one, it was the happiest day of my life.

I tried to be a friend, confidant, and counselor to Diana. However, I feel that I failed in many ways, especially when she had her first time and got pregnant. I feel like I wasn't good enough.

I hated Benjamin for a long time because he was a scoundrel with my girl, but it wasn't just his fault, I also had a share of blame in all of this.

Ravi and Luna came to add to our lives; they are the joy of the house. I didn't let my sister stop studying; I want her to graduate and conquer the world.

In recent months, Peter and I have been arguing a lot; he wants to get married, have children, and I don't feel like it's the same as what I want. At least not now, I think about my sister, I think about work, and above all, I think about myself.

At times, I reflect on my life and feel that I haven't found myself yet, feel like something important is missing.

I ended up accepting to live with Peter and try to build a family, but I want to go to the gynecologist first. I never had sex without a condom, I was always cautious with the pills, and I want to be properly instructed.

I confess that I don't like going to doctors in general; I always avoided hospitals. It's been about a year and a half since I went for a routine gynecological check-up.

I wake up early, and Peter is no longer by my side. Yesterday we had another argument; he wanted to have sex without a condom, but I said I want to go to the doctor first. Sometimes he's so immature that makes me reconsider my decision.

... Or is it that I am too mature for my age?"

I do my personal hygiene and prepare breakfast.

While making coffee, I text the doctor's office receptionist. We don't have health insurance, and we don't qualify for the state program that offers health coverage for low-income people due to the establishment.

When we need a doctor, we have to pay for the consultation, exams, and everything else.

I manage to get an appointment for 1:30 PM.

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